Bedroom Wallpaper Quotes & Sayings

The first thing she noticed when the light popped on was that the wallpaper had rows and rows of tiny lilacs on it, like scratch-and-sniff paper, and the room actually smelled a little like lilacs. There was a four-poster bed against the wall, the torn, gauzy remnants of what had once been a canopy now hanging off the posts like maypoles. — Sarah Addison Allen

How blazing and alive the past is. The color of the wallpaper in the bedroom you had as a girl. It's not so much that you've lost your memory, more like you're submerged in it, like you're living in the brightly vivid underwater world of the past. — Jackie Kay

Tohru(thinking): There is an umeboshi
on your back.
Tohru (outloud): Maybe the reason people get jealous of eachother is because they can clearly see the umeboshi on other people's backs. I can see them too. I can see them perfectly. There is an amazing umeboshi on your back, Kyo-kun. — Natsuki Takaya

You can't have too much of everything, you must have a balance, that's very important. — Abdullah Ahmad Badawi

In 1989, a lone and still-anonymous Chinese student stood unarmed in front of a Chinese tank and gave the world an enduring image of the determination of China's young to change their nation. He didn't text message the tank or share a video on YouTube. — Tom Brokaw

Too much - too tempting - to have my hands on it and not look at it. Quickly I slid it out, and almost immediately its glow enveloped me, something almost musical, an internal sweetness that was inexplicable beyond a deep, blood-rocking harmony of rightness, the way your heart beat slow and sure when you were with a person you felt safe with and loved. A power, a shine, came off it, a freshness like the morning light in my old bedroom in New York which was serene yet exhilarating, a light that rendered everything sharp-edged and yet more tender and lovely than it actually was, and lovelier still because it was part of the past, and irretrievable: wallpaper glowing, the old Rand McNally globe in half-shadow. — Donna Tartt

I was wondering, Auri. Would you mind showing me the Underthing?"
Auri looked away, suddenly shy. "Kvothe, I thought you were a gentleman," she said, tugging self-consciously at her ragged shirt. "Imagine, asking to see a girl's underthing." She looked down, her hair hiding her face.
I held my breath for a moment, choosing my next words carefully lest I startle her back underground. While I was thinking, Auri peeked at me through the curtain of her hair.
"Auri," I asked slowly, "are you joking with me?"
She looked up and grinned. "Yes I am," she said proudly. "Isn't it wonderful? — Patrick Rothfuss

BRAINSTORMING! Every night after dinner - which is usually something like tuna noodle casserole made with cream-of-wallpaper soup - I escape to the privacy of my bedroom. — James Patterson

Those were my last words. To be listed in some book of quotations, alphabetically after Wilde:
Wilde, Oscar (of the wallpaper in his bedroom): "Either it goes, or I do."
Wilding, Adelyn (of the gum splooches on the sidewalk): "Ditto." — Roberta Pearce

Religion does not stop adolescents from having sex; it only makes them feel bad about about the sex they do have. — Darrel Ray

There should be a word for an attitude between snobbish and unconscious, describing someone who doesn't realize how strongly he holds his own opinions. — Edmond Manning

It is said that if Noah's ark had to be built by a company; they would not have laid the keel yet; and it may be so. What is many men's business is nobody's business. The greatest things are accomplished by individual men. — Charles Spurgeon

My childhood bedroom had wallpaper that was printed with clouds and rainbows. — Brad Goreski

I discovered something attractive about uncertainty. It was the knowledge that God was in control and that I was depending on him every moment. — Yilda B. Rivera

You know those afternoons," he asks, drawing a shaking breath, "where you're just going along, doing fine, and then afternoon comes and it feels like you've just got the wind knocked out of you and everything is wrong?" He sighs and slowly pushes himself so he's sitting upright. His shoulders are slumped. "That's all," he says. "It's just one of those afternoons."
We are silent for a minute. Then he lies back down on the couch.
I should say I love him. I should say it will be all right. But it won't.
I walk down the hall to my bedroom. I lie down on my side and stare at the wall, the blue-flowered wallpaper next to my nose. Despite my best efforts, I start to cry.
I know those afternoons. — Marya Hornbacher